


The Bitter End

by popfly



Category: Queer as Folk (US) RPF
Genre: Infidelity, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-08-17
Updated: 2004-08-17
Packaged: 2017-11-09 06:16:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/452266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/popfly/pseuds/popfly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/452224">Substance</a>. Randy goes to Kim's gig. I've never been inside The Bitter End, so I apologize if my descriptions are inaccurate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Bitter End

Randy stood out on the street in front of The Bitter End, wiping sweat from his forehead. The sun was setting but it was still hotter than hell, and the humidity was enough to suffocate a person. He plucked at his tee shirt and took a deep breath. Then he stepped under the awning and reached for the handle on the door.

Inside the temperature jumped fifteen degrees. Randy wiped his forehead again and looked around, marveling at the people crowding the bar. Simon had warned him that the place would be busy.

“Wow,” Simon had said when Randy told him that Gale’s girlfriend had a gig there. Randy stood in the doorway to Simon’s office, and Simon looked up at him over the rims of his reading glasses. “That place is legendary.”

“Yeah?” Randy stared down at the black and white flier advertising Singers and Songwriters and then back to at Simon.

“Yeah.”

“That’s nice. Anyway, can you come?”

“What night is it?” Simon pushed up from his huge leather desk chair and crossed the room to take the flier. Randy never felt comfortable in Simon’s office, so he tried to stay out of it as much as possible. It just felt so much like Simon’s space. Actually most of the apartment felt like Simon’s space, and Randy was just occupying it. Randy tapped his foot on the hardwood floor while Simon read the flier over. And over. “Oh, it’s one of those,” Simon finally said.

“One of what?”

“It’s a step up from amateur night.”

“Does it matter?” Randy took the flier back and folded it in fourths before stuffing into his pocket. Simon raised his eyebrows and shook his head. “Can you come?”

“No. I’m going to be out of town this weekend, remember?”

“Um, no.” Randy didn’t remember. Which means Simon hadn’t told him. He’d been doing that a lot lately.

“It’s another magazine thing.” Simon waved his hand dismissively and Randy folded his arms.

“You just _had_ a magazine thing,” he said, with only a small sneer at the last word. Simon shrugged blithely.

“And now I have another.” Simon tilted his head and pursed his lips. “You can go with Gale. It’s not a big deal, right?” He pressed a kiss to Randy’s forehead and went back to his desk. Randy watched him as he shifted in his chair, pushed up his glasses and lifted the papers he’d been reading through before Randy came in. Then he turned and left.

Gale hadn’t been too upset when Randy told him that Simon wasn’t coming. On the contrary, he had sounded glad. Not that he would advertise that fact or anything.

“Good. Then we’ll actually be able to have fun,” he’d said when Randy had called to tell him.

“Shut up, Gale, we have fun when Simon’s along.”

“Um, no, we don’t.” Randy heaved a sigh and yanked open the fridge. “Remember the time you guys came up to Toronto to see my condo and Simon rolled his eyes every time I opened my mouth? Yeah, that wasn’t fun.”

“Not every time,” Randy protested, reading the labels on the cartons that sat on the top shelf. Soy milk, green tea ... “Where the hell is my juice?"

“What?"

“Nothing.” Randy shoved the cartons aside, but still didn’t see his orange juice. He heaved a sigh. “So what time should I meet you at this place?”

“Seven thirty? She goes on at seven forty five.”

“Fine. I’ll see you then.”

“Wait, Randy?”

“What?” Randy shoved the fridge door shut and stared at the picture of him and Simon stuck to the gleaming metal with a “Colours” magnet.

“Don’t be mad, okay? I wasn’t insulting Simon or anything.”

Randy squeezed the phone between his shoulder and his ear and reached out to pull the photo off the fridge. He wasn’t mad at Gale. He was annoyed because Gale was right. They _did_ have more fun when Simon wasn’t there. “I’m not mad.” He lifted the magnet, flipped the photo over and re-attached it to the door. “I’ll see you Sunday.” He took the phone away from his ear and hung up.

He stood in the kitchen staring at the back of the photo for a good minute before he actually put the phone back on the hook.

So now Randy was standing in the entrance to this legendary bar, scanning the crowd for a familiar brown head. Someone jostled him from behind and he apologized quickly, heading towards the bar. He ordered a beer and smiled thinly at the bartender. He tapped his fingers on the polished wood and rolled his head on his neck, stretching the tightening muscles.

“Tense?”

He didn’t even flinch at the feel of Gale’s breath on his neck or the suddenness of Gale’s voice in his ear. “A little.” He looked up at Gale. “How long have you been here?”

“I just got here.” Gale turned his back to the bar and leaned his elbows against it.

“You’re wearing leather pants.” Randy pressed his tongue against the roof of his mouth and he could’ve sworn it stuck there. Thankfully the bartender delivered his beer at that precise moment. Randy took a long swallow.

“I am. Very observant.” The corner of Gale’s mouth closest to Randy quirked up.

“You don’t wear leather pants.”

“It’s a rock show, Randy.”

“It’s a songwriting showcase Gale.”

Gale shrugged. “They’re hot.”

“I bet. You must be sweating like crazy in this heat.”

Gale turned a lazy smile to Randy. “That’s not the kind of hot I meant.”

Randy shifted his weight and took another drink. He knew exactly the kind of hot Gale meant. And he wasn’t kidding. All of the women in the bar had their eyes on Gale’s legs, every muscle hugged in shining black leather, the bulge of his crotch in plain view inches beneath the hem of the sleeveless black button-up he wore. “You look like Brian.”

Gale looked down at his shirt and laughed. “Yeah, I guess I do.” He pushed away from the bar. “Come on, let’s find somewhere to stand.”

Randy followed him through the crowd, looking anywhere but at Gale’s leather-covered ass. He tried to make out the faces in the framed photos on the bare brick walls, at the dim lights hanging low over the few round tables in the back. He was so busy not watching Gale’s ass that he didn’t know Gale had stopped walking until he bumped right into him. Even the momentary contact made him flush like he had a fever and when Gale chuckled down at him he was thankful for the dim lighting.

The show started fairly promptly, and Kim was amazing. Randy watched her sing, her bright-red lips spread wide, her feet planted on either side of the microphone stand, her hair curling wildly, and he had to admit to himself that she was pretty in an exotic sort of a way. And she did rock. He made a point of not watching Gale watch Kim, and when her short set was over and Kim pushed through the crowd to wrap her arms around Gale’s neck, Randy excused himself to order another beer. When he got back, Kim was gone.

“She went in back to hang out with the other musicians. She said to tell you bye.”

Randy picked at the label on his bottle. “Is she not coming back?”

“No. She’s got friends in town that want to take her out for a post-show drink.”

“Don’t you want to go?”

Gale cocked an eyebrow. “Are you kidding?” He snorted. “Besides I wasn’t invited. Just the girls, you know?”

Randy kept his smile from spreading too far across his face. “So it’s just us then, hey?”

“Looks like it.” Gale grinned down at him for what felt like an eternity before laughing shortly and rubbing the corner of his mouth. “Did you want to stay here?”

Randy shrugged. “There’s a bar here."

“Right. Let’s get thoroughly drunk.”

Randy downed the rest of his beer and followed Gale to the bar.

The more Randy drank the more he noticed Gale’s eyes on him, leaving hot trails on the skin of his neck, searing through the denim of Randy’s jeans. The more Gale drank the closer he stood to Randy, and it didn’t take long for them to be standing so close that Randy could see up Gale’s nose. Gale went from goofy to horny in five drinks and when he sauntered off in the direction of the bathroom Randy only had to take three deep breaths before he traced his steps.

Randy was relieved to find that the bathroom was a lot cooler than the bar, and it took him a moment to realize that it was because there was an open window on the far wall and another moment to notice the smoke curling up to said window. 

The soles of Randy’s sneakers squeaked a little as he crossed the tile and the door to the stall opened before he even got there.

“How’d you know it was me?”

Gale gestured with his joint. “Your shoes.”

“It could have been anyone wearing tennis shoes.”

Gale just grinned and pulled Randy into the stall, passing him the joint. Randy held it to his lips and inhaled. Gale leaned back against the wall and propped one boot on the toilet seat, closing the inch of space between them. Randy exhaled sharply, burning the back of his throat, as Gale’s thigh came into direct contact with his and Gale’s calf brushed his arm. He coughed a little to cover his reaction and handed the joint back to Gale.

Randy rubbed his palms on his jeans. “Did you ever tell Kim about us?”

Randy winced as soon as the question was out of his mouth but Gale didn’t look fazed. “No.” He squinted as he inhaled. His eyes always watered a lot when he smoked weed.

“Why not?”

Gale shrugged. “Would you tell Simon you fucked a woman before you guys started dating?” He passed the joint to Randy. “And a couple of times after?”

Randy pressed his lips together before taking another hit. “I guess not.”

Gale nodded, then slid two fingers into the front pocket of Randy’s jeans. Randy stared down at Gale’s hand, then back up at Gale. Gale blinked once and then came forward, his mouth hovering inches away from Randy’s. “You’re really hot when you smoke,” Gale said, his voice a low rumble, his smoky-sweet breath wafting over Randy’s lips.

“I am?”

“You are.” Gale took the joint from Randy and dropped it into the toilet. It made a short hissing noise, and then Gale had the hand that wasn’t in Randy’s pocket on the back of Randy’s neck.

“You do know how wrong is this, don’t you?” Randy asked, looking up into Gale’s half-open eyes.

“Yeah.”

Randy nodded, and kissed him.

The kiss went on forever, until Randy was weak and light-headed from more than the pot, from the taste of Gale’s tongue and the way Gale sucked at his lips. When they broke apart Randy kept his eyes closed for a beat, and Gale had his hands on Randy’s back, hiking his shirt up to touch his skin, and Randy opened his eyes when Gale took his earlobe between his teeth.

Randy tilted his head back against the gun-metal wall of the stall so Gale could get his tongue in the hollow behind his ear and he whimpered as quietly as possible when Gale’s fingers traveled down his spine and into the waist on his jeans.   
“Gale,” he panted.

“Mm?” Gale hummed against his neck.

“We’re in a public bathroom.”

“Mm-hm.” Gale rubbed his lips just inside the neckline of Randy’s tee shirt. Randy was losing it. When Gale’s middle finger rubbed circles in the cleft at the top of Randy’s crack Randy gave in.

Gale fucked him against the cold metal, Randy’s jeans around his knees, the leather of Gale’s pants brushing the backs of his thighs on every in stroke. It was rough, and it was hard, and it was everything Randy had been missing since the last time Gale had been inside him. Simon had always been a lousy top.

Randy could hear Gale panting Randy’s name into his shoulder blades when he came, and Randy choked back a cry and bit his index finger so hard he worried briefly that he’d draw blood. They stayed still for a minute and then Gale pulled out, leaving Randy feeling empty in more ways than one. Randy had always felt that way when sex with Gale was over. He didn’t feel that with Simon. Randy unrolled a length of toilet paper and cleaned up the mess he’d made on the wall while Gale tied the condom off. Randy flushed the toilet, his head down, and zipped his jeans.

Gale opened the door and peeked out, nodding that the coast was clear. They washed their hands and Randy winced when he was drying his hands and the roughness of the paper towel scraped over the teeth marks in his finger.

Gale took Randy’s hand and rubbed the marks with his thumb. Randy leveled his eyes at Gale’s waist. Then his eyes shot up to Gale’s and he took his hand back.

“Those pants don’t have pockets.”

“There is one pocket.” Gale twisted sideways to show Randy the tiny pocket on his ass.

“Just big enough for a condom and a sample of lube.” Randy shook his head. “How did you know I’d let you fuck me?”

Gale blew out a breath. “Come on, Randy. It’s always like this with us. You should know that by now. You have a boyfriend, I have a girlfriend, but it doesn’t matter.”

“Then why aren’t we together?” Randy turned his head and caught a glimpse of them in the mirror above the sinks. Gale’s profile was beautiful. Randy took a shallow breath and looked back to Gale.

Gale’s jaw was set. He shrugged a shoulder. “That was your choice Randy. You left me, remember?” He brushed past Randy and Randy heard the door to the bathroom swing open. Randy stood still, looking down at the teeth marks in his fingers then up at his face in the mirror.

He remembered, but he couldn’t for the life of him remember why.


End file.
